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“Your job,” I murmur. I know what a risk this is for him to even consider taking.

“It’ll be fine.”

He gets out of the car, and so I follow him, walking down the path towards his house.

“What about Christian?” I ask as he unlocks the door. He probably won’t remember me because he was quite drunk the night that I went home with him, but if he does recognise me, it’ll be awkward as hell.

“He’s not here. Dropped out of university, went back home.”

“He dropped out?”

“Yeah. Maybe you broke his heart,” Joseph teases. I roll my eyes at him, and he clears his throat. “He was failing his course and decided to give it up. Anyway, I’ve two other housemates, but they’re late sleepers, so you probably won’t have to talk to them.”

He shuts the door behind us, then locks it and looks at me. It’s the sympathy on his face that makes me lose any control I thought I had over my emotions. The stoicism that I found when in the car, it vanishes and leaves no trace within me. All that’s left is the fear, shame, anxiety, and the sheer exhaustion that this is what I have to deal with in my life.

I break down into noisy tears, my body shaking with the ferocity. Everything feels like it’s trembling—my knees, my hands, my arms. If I were crying in front of Felix like this, I’m sure he’d pull me into a big bear hug, but there’s a line between me and Joseph. This is beyond inappropriate anyway, and I’m sure an embrace would make things worse.

Instead, he guides me by the elbow towards the living room, then leads me to the sofa and settles me down. I weep openly, and he leaves me alone.

After a few moments, I try to pull myself together. I’ve been through worse than this. I try to rationalise things in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about what Duncan would have done if I hadn’t run away. Would he have hit me, like he occasionally does to my mother when he says he wants to teach her a lesson?

Would he have done worse?

Over my still-noisy tears, I hear Joseph’s footsteps as he returns.

“Here, drink this,” he says. He hands me a mug of what looks like steaming hot tea.

“Thank you.”

He takes a seat on the same sofa but leaves distance between us. I drink some of the tea, grateful that the mug isn’t too full given my hands are still slightly shaking. The tea is sweet. I sip it slowly. My tears slow, as does the shaking, until I feel like I’ve finally got a grip on myself.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks.

“I got home, and he was there, arguing with my mother. I snuck into the house and stayed in my bedroom. After a while, I needed the bathroom, and I thought everything was okay, but he was there. He grabbed me. He….”

My voice trails off when my throat tightens.

“Delilah.” Joseph’s voice is calm and steady. I look at him. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. He just scared me. He said he wanted to teach me a lesson, but I got away. I just ran, and when I couldn’t run any further, I phoned you,” I explain.

“I hate that this happened, but I’m glad you phoned me.”

“I couldn’t really go to a club barefoot and without any money,” I quip.

“Don’t make jokes,” he chastises.

I take a steadying breath. “Making jokes feels easier than thinking about how scary it was, and how lost I felt without my usual items. I’ve never let my guard down like that before. No shoes. No purse. No spare clothes.”

I shudder a little as I think again about how wrong the night had gone. The very little grasp I thought I had on things, the safety I thought I’d cultivated, it feels like a mockery now.

Joseph rises from the sofa. He takes the empty mug from me and then disappears into the kitchen again. I listen to the sound of the kettle boiling, the stirring of a spoon against the mug, the opening and closing of the fridge.

“Another drink will help settle your nerves,” he says as he returns and hands the mug to me. “Do you want me to call the police? Do you want to report what happened?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m too….” My voice trails off again because I don’t know the correct sentiment I want to express. Tired? Jittery? Afraid? All seem fitting.

“Give me a minute,” he says. He heads in the direction of the door to the living room, but then he pauses by the doorframe. “Will you be okay by yourself while I sort some things out?”